


Harder Still

by orphan_account



Series: Hard [2]
Category: EastEnders
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-17
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drawing Lines</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harder Still

HARDER STILL

 

 

 

 

 

He didn't want it to be his dad: his mum's pain he could handle, his dad's confusion and disappointment would be harder to take.

His mum had a way of forcing things, almost standing on your head until you came round to her way of thinking. His dad simply _expected_ , silently expected, and letting him down made Syed feel the shame that his mother's approbation had never really been able to.

Well, Christian had better be aware of what he was asking him to do. Obviously he would have had to see them sooner or later, but damn it was hard...

 

**

They were both there of course. He hadn't used his key – no longer his home, after all, felt that if he could reinforce that fact in as many ways as possible then the message would finally get through – all the way.

She opened the door, standing there for an age, simply looking at him, her changing expressions highlighting her confusion. “Hello, mum.”

His dad came into the hallway, a slice of toast in hand. “Oh,” he said when he saw him, and then the next minute, “Come in, then, no point in standing on the doorstep...”

He was aware of being scrutinised as he smiled and nervously entered the home he could no longer call that. Funny that it didn't look or feel any different. Was sure he didn't look too different either, but he knew for sure that he _felt_ different. “I came to fetch my things.”

His mother snorted and barged past him – into the kitchen. She was cooking – of course – and he felt a moment of nostalgia for those long gone days when they'd been a family, happy, content, loving. He could blame himself for the dissolution of that idyll, and had been doing so for the longest time, but he'd grown enough to understand that what he was wasn't the issue - not really – rather it was how they _dealt_ with who he was that became the issue. Didn't blame them, but didn't blame himself either... “I left in a bit of a hurry,” he went on, addressing his dad. “Should have at least said I was going.”

His dad regarded him in silence for moment. “You gave Tamwar the book I gave you.”

“I don't deserve it, dad. Never will. And I honestly don't want to argue about that – any of it. I came to tell you that I'm living with Christian and that obviously I won't be working at Masala Queen anymore. I love you – both of you – and I have done everything I can to make up for all the grief I've caused, but there's only so much I can do, dad. I can't change who I am. You know how hard I tried to do that, so what do I do, carry on hating who I am, try to fit into the shape you've carved out for me? I think you 'd like me to answer yes to that, no matter how unhappy it makes me. You hit Christian because he said that he loved me more than you do – and dad, somehow _that's_ how it feels.” He saw his mum come back into the hallway here and deliberately made a point of meeting her gaze. “It feels like you only love the Syed _you_ want, that anything less than perfection is worthless, _less_ than useless, that you would never be satisfied until you had me fit the _exact_ shape you wanted. For a long time now, I haven't felt loved. Even when he rejected me I knew why, I understood it, I accepted it. With you.. it felt like you were telling me that you hated _me_ , that I had to hide _me_ from your gaze because the real me was something that disgusted you. Christian was disgusted with me because I was prepared to ...kill myself, destroy my _self_ to please you. He has _never_ asked me to do that. I told him that I was gay, that I was a Muslim and that I was happy being both. And he understood, accepted it – accepts my religion even if he doesn't understand it. I knew that if I said that to you you'd tell me that there's no such thing and would make me once again have therapy or maybe meet a nice girl to get over my stupid ideas...” He sighed, turned to the stairway. “I don't want us to fight – not ever again – but you have to accept that I've made my choice and that if you do want to reject me I'll survive - this time I'll survive.”

He set his face and walked leisurely up the stairs to his room...

 

**

He'd probably need help moving this lot, but of course Christian's flat wasn't that big – he'd leave most of it for Tam...

He was surprised at how much lighter he felt now he'd managed to say his piece without the accompanying row. And the fact was he'd quite happily walk and keep on walking should they try to pick a fight.

He wanted them in his life, but no longer was he prepared to do it all on their terms; no longer was he afraid of losing them, of losing respect, losing face...losing love.

He trusted Christian in a way he never had in the past, knew that he was there for the long haul, not giving him an _easy_ ride, but prepared to _give_ him a ride all the same. He smiled to himself as he anticipated Christian's reaction to him struggling all the way over to the flat with these cases...

 

**

“Mum, dad, I'm off now.” He opened the front door, making his intention crystal clear – no rows, no discussion, just fare thee well...

They came into the hallway once more. It was obvious that they'd been talking about him. Well naturally, what else would they talk about – the weather? His dad's gaze fell almost automatically on the cases and also automatically he moved forward. “Let me help you with those.”

“It's alright, dad.”

“Don't be daft. Say goodbye to your mum.”

“Bye mum.”

A nod was all he got, but that was better than a barrage of angry, bitter words...

“What you got in here – gold bullion?”

“I wish.”

“See you in a minute Zee.”

Outside they headed across the square, in the direction of Christian's – and his – flat...

When his dad began to speak he put his head down and listened...


End file.
